Alone in the Universe
by facingyourfailure
Summary: One small voice in the universe - Kurt dealing with his father being in the hospital. Prompted at the Glee!angst meme on LiveJournal. Rated T for language. Lots of loneliness.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee nor its characters. This is a work of fiction based on a television show that I did not create. The title is also not mine, but is taken from Seussical the Musical, from a song titled 'Alone In the Universe'.**

The walk from the street to his own front door, oak and painted red and comforting and just all wrong right now, had never been longer.

Carole wouldn't be home for ages. She was going to be at work until seven and then going grocery shopping, which could take hours, because Finn and his friends could eat their entire home (and then some) in a matter of minutes, and she hadn't been shopping in a while.

Speaking of Finn, he wasn't going to be coming home tonight either. It was Friday, which meant boys night at Puck's, and Kurt was perfectly fine with not being invited, because he didn't want to be.

And his dad, well, his dad was the reason this walk was so long.

Kurt had dealt with labels his entire life. _Freak_. _Fag_. _Stupid_. _Homo_. _Gay_. He took it in stride, really. He is proud of who he is and wasn't going to let a few Neanderthal jocks stand in his way. He would paint the path he left with a rainbow and would not care who had something to say about it. Life would be easier without Dave Karofsky shoving him into lockers and ripping his brand new Marc Jacobs jacket, but he was managing. Or, managing as well as anyone could in his situation.

One label he could not deal with? _Orphan_.

His mother left him when he was so young. A simple car accident; a reckless, drunk driver and a beautiful, innocent woman. He struck her head on and her tiny Honda could not take the intoxicated man's huge Ford truck. That car had always been her pride and joy. A soft blue, tinted windows, a sun roof that let a significantly younger Kurt pop his head out of it and say _mama, it's like I'm flying_. He remembered the wind whipping at his face and the scenery moving by at a quick rate, and he would hold his small arms in the air, waving them and pretending he was a bird, flying over a jungle or a grass meadow or the Grand Canyon.

She was pronounced dead on arrival.

His last memory of her (when she was alive) was the morning of the day of the accident. He wandered downstairs, bleary eyed from the early time, his feet padding against the wooden floors. He slipped into his chair beside her, a plate of pancakes covered in syrup ready for him to him consume. She had smiled and leaned over, pressing her soft lips to his temple, and told him _good morning_.

Kurt remembered exactly what those lips felt like, even now.

He also remembered clearly how he couldn't understand how his mother, tall with flowing brunette hair and piercing blue green eyes (people always said how much they looked like each other) had turned into this pale stranger, sleeping in what his father said was a bed from God, and didn't know why she wouldn't wake up. He tried to. His dad just shook his head, tears in his eyes, and told him that she couldn't wake up now, and went to play with the angels. He kicked and screamed and cried until his voice was hoarse and his eyes were swollen, until he had worn himself out to the point of falling asleep cradled against his father's chest, who rocked him and didn't say a word.

Losing his mother had been hard when she was taken so fast. He didn't want to lose his father the same way. The heart attack came out of no where. One moment he was in French class, speaking fluently to a thoroughly confused football player, then he was standing in the hospital room of his dad, looking at him with what could only be shock. There were so many tubes and an intravenous that looked about seven feet long - how were they even sure he was still alive?

The ride home with Mr. Schue was a very quiet and verging on awkward one. Though Mr. Schue seemed to understand, and didn't try to make conversation, because he knew that wasn't what Kurt wanted. He knew he couldn't distract Kurt right now. And he was so very, very sorry he couldn't. When he arrived to Kurt's house (the only words they exchanged since leaving the hospital was the address of Kurt's home), he told him to take care of himself, and he could talk to him any time. Kurt nodded at him to signal he had gotten the message, slowly undid his seat belt, and climbed out with his school bag.

Time really needed to stop moving so quickly, because Kurt couldn't keep up.

Closing the door to the empty house was haunting and horrible at the same time. Kurt didn't want to be alone, but needed to be. He wasn't one to have others pity him. He didn't like that kind of attention much. But sometimes you needed someone to hold you and tell you everything is going to be okay, to tell you that they're there for you and you can call them day or night and not worry about what they were doing.

He walked mindlessly down to his bedroom, his feet carrying him on auto pilot, like they knew where he needed to go without him having to think about it. He kicked off his shoes and placed his bag at the foot of his bed. He laid down, curling in, drawing his knees up to his chest and facing the wall, his breathing heavy and loud in the silence of the room.

When the tears came, they exploded from a point inside of his chest, ripping a gasp out of him before they started to pour down his face. His sobs were coming hard and fast, like they were all trying to get out of him, _out, out, out,_ at the same time, but there wasn't room for all them to fit through the door way at once. One would clog his throat and others would fight their way out and he couldn't breathe, he definitely couldn't, and what if he just stopped all together?

What if him and his dad died, his dad in the hospital from complications and him right here in this bed due to asphyxiation from his own crying?

That would be a lot better than being alone.

He loved Carole, he really did. She treated him like her own son, like Finn, and never looked at him differently. She didn't bat an eyelash when Burt mentioned Kurt was gay. When she saw him next, she brought him into a hug and told him she'd always love him what or who he was, because being gay didn't mean anyone should love you any less. She was a friend to Kurt and Kurt was always more than thankful to be with her. But having Carole would not be a replacement for his own parent. For his own father. For his own mother, even.

He may have Carole, he may have Finn and Rachel and the other members of the Glee Club, but even someone surrounded by a million people can still feel alone. He'd had his friend and step mother, but not having his own parents, he couldn't deal with that. He would never be able to call anyone _Dad_ again. Just like he never called anyone _Mom_ after his own passed away. He just felt wrong, like it was cheating or something, calling someone else _Mom_, when he already had had one. It felt like a replacement, and the last thing Kurt wanted to do was replace her. Replacement would mean he found someone else. And finding someone else would distract him. And distracting him would mean one day he would wake up and not know what those lips on his temple felt like, and that was the last thing he wanted.

No one realised the kind of relationship Kurt had with his father. It was different from the typical father-son watching sports and talking about chicks and playing video games bond. Kurt brought his father out shopping, giving him tips for what was in season but also suited his father's taste (he learned to respect his father's clothing because different people had different views, and doing a little adjusting was not too much to ask for). Burt took Kurt out to the movies (it was a monthly thing; Burt would let Kurt pick a movie that he wanted to see and would comply without complaints. Even if it was a potentially dumb chick flick. Though that one movie about the girl named Summer and there being five hundred days involved was pretty cool).

Kurt didn't want all of that taken from him, not like this. Kurt like consistency, and disliked changes for no reason. He liked being in the swing of things and having a routine or a tradition. He also knew how to have fun, of course, but the little things that are constant, they matter most. If Burt left right now, there'd be no more movie trips or shopping for an attractive and stylish flannel.

After the initial hurricane came the eye of the storm. Kurt no longer sobbed, though he still did cry, tears leaking out of his sore eyes and down the bridge of his nose or off his cheek, and he could only stare at the wall while an unidentifiable feeling swept over him. He didn't know what it was and the uncertainty scared him, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to care, because for all he knew, he was going to be alone soon and where do you really go from there? There's no one who can understand you the way a father can.

Hell, most people didn't understand Kurt at all.

Maybe if he held his knees a little tighter, squeezed a bit more, he might be able to hold himself together. Holding himself together would mean he could get through this. Getting through this would mean some form of closure. And some form of closure would mean moving on. From loneliness.

But loneliness did not come or leave lightly, it cripples its victim and leaves them unable to move, settles deep in their stomach and refuses to leave, even in the presence of others. A person who experiences loneliness can not even be comforted by someone.

Loneliness leaves on its own.

One may try to urge it out by forced laughter and fake smiles, but that's just lying to yourself, that's not a remedy.

Kurt laid there for a very long time, a longer time than he probably figured since he could not see a clock at all, until he fell into a dreamless sleep (his body too exhausted to think about dreaming), tear tracks drying on his face. It was all too much like the scene the night of his mother's funeral, except this time, there was a piece missing, the most important one in Kurt's life right now, and what was an unfinished puzzle? Puzzles looked wrong when they were incomplete. It was just like this, this was all wrong.

Kurt needed the last piece back.


End file.
